


Helpless

by acerey



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: College AU, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, loosely based on hamilton's helpless, the characters may or may not be ooc i'm so sorry, this is my first time writing tmr so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acerey/pseuds/acerey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Look into your eyes, and the sky’s the limit!”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

It started at a college party. Just a regular one, almost typical, Minho thought as he wandered around the room with a drink in hand. It’s loud as fuck, you could practically feel the beats bouncing off the walls. Or maybe that was just the nearly hundred bodies colliding with one another in attempts of dancing. He recognised almost everyone, of course, as he’s been to all of the parties since the start of the year. He said  _almost_ , only because someone he definitely did not know walked in the room and scanned the crowd, beaming as he embraced Alby, the host of the party.

If this was a movie, Minho’s sure the music would have swelled as the crowd parted for him to make his way towards the guy — then again, this wasn’t a movie, and Brenda would kick his ass if she heard him say that. But Brenda wasn’t here and staring at the guy, marvelling at how the shitty fluorescent lights made a perfect halo around his copper blonde hair, or how his smile alone was brighter than any light bulb in existence. The guy laughed at something Alby said, and it must have been really funny since he threw his head back like a child. Minho felt his heart clench and reached out to the nearest person, grabbing their shoulder and pulling them close.

“Who’s that?” he asked, sounding not at all choked. His eyes were still on the blonde and he wished more than anything to hear his voice, his laugh. Or maybe just to know his name. But whichever came first.

“Who?” the person, Thomas, asked back, sounding harassed as he turned to follow Minho’s gaze. When he spotted the guy, he simply shrugged, prying his friend’s hand off of him. “A friend of Alby’s, I guess.”

Minho turned to him, his eyebrows raised. “Gee, really? And here I thought they’re complete strangers,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Thomas, as always, was unamused.

“I don’t know everything, Min.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he told him. He looked back at the guy, his heart leaping to his throat when he saw that he was staring right at him. They made eye contact, Minho’s pulse beating in his ears, and he smiled. The guy _smiled_ at him. Albeit, it was a small, almost unnoticeable one, but it still counted. At least to Minho.

Before he could turn away or say anything, Alby had seen him as well and in a few seconds, the two of them were making their way across the crowd to him. A panicked noise rose in the back of his throat as he grabbed Thomas’ arm, and Thomas immediately pulled out of his grip, saying something Minho chose to ignore.

“They’re coming this way,” he fretted. “Shit, they’re coming. What do I do?”

“Play it cool, man, jeez,” his friend huffed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. It was rare to see Minho like this and Thomas wanted to treasure it while he could.

By the time Minho had regained some kind of composure, the blonde was already standing in front of him, the small smile still plastered on his face. Minho couldn’t help but smile back, his heart skipping a beat or two. Alby cleared his throat, the sound bringing the two back to reality.

“Guys, this is Newt. Been buddies since high school,” he said, bumping his shoulder with the blonde’s. It brought out a grin from him and Minho’s stomach was doing backflips. “Newt, this is Thomas and Minho. These idiots have been making my life a living hell since September.”

Those words reverted him back to his normal self. “Love ya too, Alby,” he winked. Alby grunted, mumbled something about getting drinks and pulled Thomas away, despite his whines, and suddenly he was alone with the blond- Newt. That’s his name. Newt.

Minho was about to say something when he made the mistake of looking into his eyes, whatever words he had dying as he found himself entranced in them; drowning in the deep, nut brown. It was that moment that he realised that he was gone. Whatever happened tonight didn’t matter to Minho, as long as Newt was there.

* * *

Cut to a week later and Minho was happier than he’d ever been. Though nothing exciting happened between him and Newt at the party, they did spend the rest of the night talking — somehow they never ran out of topics, constantly jumping to one after another — and exchanged numbers before parting ways. Minho learned that Newt attended a different school in a different city, one of those prestigious art schools that you could only get in if you’re super rich or, in Newt’s case, had a scholarship. To say that Minho was impressed was an understatement, as he let the blonde ramble on about it.

As the night went on, Minho found that he never wanted Newt to stop talking. There was a twinkle in his eyes whenever an interest of his was brought up and he spoke about it with such excitement and enthusiasm that kept Minho rapt with attention. And each time Newt went on a little too long he’d flash a sheepish smile, apologising for his enthusiasm, to which Minho simply waved it off, commenting about the topic. He could tell that Newt was surprised by the fact that not only was Minho listening, but he was actually _interested_. For some reason it made him wonder who had the balls to ever tell this kid to shut up.

“Hey.” Thomas nudged him back to the present. “Can you please watch where you’re going? It’s hard enough for me not to trip, I can’t do it for both of us.”

“Uh-huh,” Minho mumbled, clearly not listening to his friend as he continued to type on his phone. He and Newt had been texting each other almost everyday since the party, once again failing to find a topic that didn’t interest either of them.

“Also,” Thomas continued, holding a hand out to stop them. “It’s been a week, dude. Did you ask him out yet or what?”

Minho looked up for a split second before a buzz brought his attention back to his phone. “Haven’t found the right time. Finals week, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” he echoed the Asian, looking thoroughly unconvinced. He waited a beat, before shaking his head and walking off to class.

It took a while for Minho to realise that Thomas had left him standing alone in the middle of the hallway, and jogged after him, yelling, “Hey, wait up, you dick!”

* * *

Finally, after two weeks, Minho found himself standing in front of Newt’s door, adjusting his jacket and _refusing_ to touch his hair after spending roughly two hours on it. Once finals week (or as Thomas and Minho had dubbed it, _suffering week_ ) was over and done with, he was finally free to ask Newt out. The only problem was, he couldn’t do it. It took him hours to muster up the courage, and even longer to _actually_ type out the words. Someone suggested to just call him, but that didn’t work out either, resulting in a spluttering mess that was Minho and a very confused Newt on the other line. In the end, it was Brenda who asked him out for him.

Taking a deep breath, Minho rapped the door twice and waited, fidgeting. When the door open, it wasn’t Newt. Instead it was a buff guy who towered over him by several inches, with a face that seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. He crossed his arms and stared at Minho, possibly judging him. Minho plastered on his winning smile and held his hand out to the guy.

“Hey, I’m Minho,” he said. When met with a silence so tense and would be intimidating if the guy’s eyebrows weren’t so ridiculously distracting, Minho let his hand drop to his side. Before he could say anything that would potentially get him in serious trouble, Newt’s head popped up over the guy’s shoulder, beaming when he saw Minho.

“Minho, you’re here!” he grinned, and Minho’s heart fluttered. He watched as Newt pushed the guy away and grabbed his coat. “You ready?”

Not trusting his voice, he simply nodded and helped Newt with his coat. Just before they left, the guy called out to him. “Don’t be late!”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Newt said over his shoulder, still smiling at Minho. “That was my stepbrother, Gally. He likes to think he can act like a big brother just because he’s taller. But I’m the older one,” he explained once they were outside. “Anyways, where are we going?”

“Uh.” Minho’s brain shortcircuited; he had no idea. He wasn’t familiar with this city, hell, it took him nearly an hour to find Newt’s apartment building. “Um, wherever you want? I don’t know much about this place,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

It must have dawned to Newt too as a light shade of red coloured his cheeks. “Oh right,” he muttered, frowning as he thought. “Well why don’t we just take a walk? The sky looks lovely tonight.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? What about your ankle?”

“I’ve been inside for so long, Minho,” he laughed, waving a hand. “I could use the exercise.”

But Minho didn’t seem convinced, as he simply stared at him. Newt rolled his eyes, took the Asian’s hand and pulled him along the street. Minho didn’t want to think about how his heart skipped a beat at the touch, and instead fell into step with the other man, letting him lead the way.

Despite his limitation, Newt was able to walk for a surprisingly long amount of time, and pointed out places and telling stories about them to Minho. As always, Minho listened and only spoke to give a sarcastic remark, to which Newt responded with his own remark.

It was better like this, Minho thought. Sure, texting was great and all, but nothing could beat being with Newt in person, to hear his voice and the curl of his accent, and even to hold his hand. As they sat on a bench outside of a pizza place, Minho watched Newt throw his head back laughing at a shitty joke he stole from Thomas and decided that he never wanted Newt to stop. That there couldn’t be a view as beautiful as him, or a sound as heavenly as his laugh. There just wasn’t, at least to Minho.

“What are you staring at?” Newt asked, still chuckling.

Minho shrugged. “Just thinking,” he trailed off, his eyes glancing briefly at his lips. “About how much I want to kiss you,” he blurted out, despite himself. He instantly regretted his words when he saw Newt’s smile falling. ‘ _Shit_ ,’ he thought as his brain went into emergency mode. ‘ _Shit shit shit abort ABORT_.’

But then Newt’s lips curled into a smirk. “So why don’t you?” he said, his voice dropping into a murmur. Minho blinked at him.

“What?” he said dumbly. Newt chuckled and shifted closer.

“I’m telling you to kiss me, Minho.”

With his brain still not functioning properly, he leaned forward to graze his lips against the blonde’s. That soft, simple touch was enough to set off thousands of fireworks inside his head, and Newt surged forward, kissing back so fiercely as if the world would explode if he didn’t. Minho’s sure he would explode right now. Newt tasted like cheese and tomato from the pizza, and also sunlight and pure euphoria and he didn’t want to let go, not now, not ever.

But he did, slowly and reluctantly, because his lungs were on fire and his head was floating from both the lack of oxygen and Newt’s lips. He realised that his hand found its way to the back of Newt’s neck, anchoring him because he felt like flying on the high that was Newt.

“That was,” Minho managed to say after a while, his eyes still shut. “Wow.”

He heard Newt chuckle and he was sure he was rolling his eyes. “How poetic,” he mumbled, hovering so close that Minho could feel his smile against his lips.

“We should head back,” he said. “Or at least find some privacy.”

Newt pulled away, and Minho couldn’t help but miss his warmth, but Newt kissed him again when he pulled him off of the bench so it was fine. “I know a place,” he told him, a smirk once again gracing his lips. Minho’s eyes widened as he realises when the blonde meant.

“Lead the way,” he said, taking his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be in newt's perspective but then i thought lovestruck fool minho was better so (◕‿◕✿)


End file.
